


Dear Dad

by endemictoearth



Category: My Mad Fat Diary
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Letters, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-20
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2018-04-09 09:58:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4344077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endemictoearth/pseuds/endemictoearth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rae gives her mum the letters she's been writing to her dad for years, since her mum was the one writing to her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dear Dad

**Author's Note:**

> This one’s a little more serious than my other stories. No Finn, just Rae and her mum. There might be some Trigger Warnings necessary for suicidal thoughts and mentions of self harm.

Rae’s mum, Linda, and Karim are just back from their honeymoon. After allowing herself to eat whatever she wanted at the reception and on their long weekend at the seaside, Linda is back on the wagon. Her latest diet craze is high fiber: she found an old copy of  _The F-Plan_  at the charity shop for 25p and decided to give it a go. She’s picking through a small portion of baked beans and sausage, her fourth this week, when Rae slowly peeks her head into the kitchen. 

“Mum? Have you got a minute?” She looks a little nervous, which causes Linda to wear a worried frown. 

“Yeah, ‘course. What’s up?”

“Well, I was clearing out my room a bit, and I found something.”  _God knows what that could be_ , Linda thinks,  _razor blades or a pound of Curly Wurlys?_  “Anyway, since I found out that you wrote the postcards from Dad …” Linda took a deep breath, expecting the worst. “Well … I thought you might want to read the letters I wrote back.”

Linda’s eyes, which closed instinctively to receive bad news, fly open when she hears this. “What? But … you didn’t have an address.”

“Yeah, I know. When I was little, I always thought the next postcard would have it, and then as I got older, I kept writing every now and then, just on the off chance. I guess I wanted him to know what I was like during all those years he missed.” She looks down and studies her Converse sneakers. “Um, I sometimes wrote things about you that were … not very nice. Nothing terrible, like, just …” Her words trail off and she looks up at her mum. Linda is smiling back at her. 

“I understand, love. We all need someone to moan to. Now you have Kester, but for years, you didn’t have anyone to talk to about me. Well, us.” She looks tenderly at her daughter and continues. “Listen, you don’t HAVE to let me read them. Or, you can choose which ones I see. I’m really touched you trust me enough to show any of them to me.”

A small smile spreads on Rae’s lips. “I do. I do trust ya. Which is why I’m just gonna give 'em all to you. You know what it’s been like better than anyone. Better than anyone else ever could.” She holds out a small pile of envelopes and cards. 

A tear slips out the side of Linda’s eye, and she wipes it away quickly. “Dunno why I’m cryin’,” she lies. She wipes her hands on her napkin, and reaches out to take the stack. Seeing Rae’s childish handwriting on the first note almost starts a deluge of tears, so she places the pile on the table. She sniffs and looks up at Rae. “Thanks, love, I’ll read these later.”

Rae nods and turns to walk back upstairs to her room. She thinks better of it, and comes into the kitchen to give her mum an awkward one-armed hug and whispers, “I love you, Mum” into her hair. 

***

Back in her room, Rae closes the door and breathes deep. She hopes her mum doesn’t take anything she wrote the wrong way. She opens her diary to jot down MISSION ACCOMPLISHED at the end of her latest entry. 

***

When Karim gets back from the pet store, he is his usual smiling self. He’s gotten a new kind of bird seed, recommended by the shop owner after a painful and labored conversation in Karim’s broken English. He’s getting better all the time, but it’s still hard for him to express himself with any specifics or subtlety. He notices that Linda is very subdued and only gives him a quick peck on his return, instead of the snogging he’s used to. He looks at her worriedly and says, “What is matter?” She shakes her head and waves a hand to say, “It’s too complicated.” She pats him on the wrist, picks up some papers from the table and goes into the lounge.

***

Reading through the letters, Linda experiences a flood of emotions. One minute she’s laughing and the next she’s mopping the tears off her cheek. The early ones are short and sweet, with adorable spelling errors. And Rae has always decorated her writing with drawings and doodles. A few letters stand out: 

**July 22, 1988**

Dear Dad,

I miss you lodes. We went to Butlins last week and everyones dads threw them in the pool and catched them at the bottom of the slides. Mum couldint lift me to throw me in the pool and I didint like how high the slides were. I wish youd come with us.

I hope you are having fun in Scotland. Maybe someday I can visit you! I want to see the Loch Ness Monster and take a picture with both of us and it behind us. That would be great! Then I could show kids at school how cool you are.

Love,

_Rae_

***

**March 15, 1990**

Dear Dad,

Thanks for the postcard! I can’t hardly remember the last time I saw you. I know I was really little and couldn’t write to you yet. You always used to read me a book at bed time. After you left, Mum used to read to me sometimes, but she works hard and didn’t always have the time. I have been reading a lot lately which is better than watching whatever stupid show Mum wants to watch. I am trying to read 100 books this year and I have already read 22. I really like Anne of Green Gables and Sherlock Holmes. 

Love,

_Rae_

P.S. I still have that Roly-Poly puppy book I made you read me so many times. 

***

**December 17, 1993**

Dear Dad,

Happy Christmas! I know you’ll probably never actually read this letter, but I thought I’d write something, anyway. Mum’s already told me she can’t afford much in the way of presents this year, and asked for me to give her a list, so she’d be sure to buy at least one thing I actually wanted. I mostly asked for cassettes, since I got a tape player for my birthday last week. It’s crap having your birthday so close to Christmas, at least in this house. 

I hope I’ll see you again one of these days. I feel like we’d have some good chats. (If I were weirder, I’d put a visit from you on my Christmas list, but I don’t think Mum would like it.)

Best wishes,

_Rae_

***

**February 27, 1996**

Dear Dad,

I don’t know why I’m writing this. I feel like I need to get everything out of my head, but there’s so much in there that I could start writing now and not be done for a hundred years. It’s easy to write to you, because it’s like you don’t exist. You’ll never read this, so you’ll never judge me. You could be anyone, so I can make up what I want you to be. 

Sometimes I really hate you for leaving. I want to think my life would be so different, so much easier, if you were just here. But do I want to know someone who doesn’t want to know me? It’s almost the same relationship I have with death. Sometimes I’m so afraid of dying, it’s like imaginary hands are clutching at my heart and I can hardly breathe. Other days, it seems like the most logical answer for all my problems.  

I haven’t spoken to Chloe in weeks. Nobody else at school talks to me, except to call me some stupid name. And coming home to an empty house every day has been really hard. As much as Mum makes me angry, having her around is better. It makes me calmer when she’s there to make my tea, and then I do the washing up while she dries. When she’s gone, my routine is gone, and my head fills up with thoughts I don’t want to be thinking, but can’t stop.

I don’t hope you’re happy. I honestly don’t think about you until one of your postcards shows up. I wonder why you even send them anymore. 

_Rae_

***

At the bottom of the pile, there is one final letter in a new blank envelope. Linda turns it over in her hands before gingerly opening it. 

**September 3, 1996**

Dear Mum,

I wish a letter could make everything better between us, but I know nothing is that simple. I’m sorry I’ve been so difficult to live with, and so much trouble. I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with all my problems by yourself for so long. I’m sorry you had to write letters pretending to be my knobhead dad because he couldn’t be arsed to write me himself. I’m sorry it’s taken me a while to appreciate how hard  _your_  life has been over the last ten years.

I’m really glad you met Karim, even though I acted like a twat to him at first. I hope you both are happy together for a really long time. You deserve to be happy.

Thanks for being a great mum. 

Love, 

_Rae_


End file.
